Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
“Okay, I know you’re here somewhere,” Lacey said as she slowed down her car and leaned close to the steering wheel, peering through her supersonic windshield wipers to try and find the turn to Sam’s house.
He’d offered to come pick her up, but Lacey had insisted that she needed to be able to get there herself or she and Daisy were going to be camping in the woods instead of staying at his house.
Did she miss it?
Her headlights hit a reflective strip, and she shouted with excitement. As always, the turn was right around the point where she thought she was lost.
Lacey drove slowly up the long driveway. The woods were almost pitch black, and the rain was coming down like a second Biblical flood was headed their way. Since she’d almost hit a deer leaving his house Saturday night, she wasn’t taking any chances since her car wasn’t insured as of a few weeks ago. The five hundred dollars Sam was giving her to hang out at his big house with their—his—sweet dog was going to pay for her to get it reinsured.
She parked, careful not to block his car, grabbed her duffle bag, then sprinted for the front door. It looked like she’d stood directly in front of a sprinkler when Sam opened the door.
“You found it,” he said, a bit surprised. Daisy sat next to him, wiggling so hard that she looked like a hula girl dash ornament.
“There was a minute there I thought I was going to have to send up a flare for you to find me, but it really is the turn right after I think I’m lost.” Lacey stepped inside, took off her shoes, put down her bag, then turned her attention to Daisy. “Hi, Daisy girl,” she cooed in a sing-song voice, and scratched the dog behind both ears.
“I told her to sit and stay before I opened the door. I’m kind of shocked she did it,” Sam said, walking backwards out of the foyer.
“She’s a good girl.” Lacey followed him into the house. “Do I actually get a grand tour this time?”
“You do.” Sam pointed to the kitchen. “That’s the kitchen.”
Lacey rolled her eyes, even though she did want to laugh. She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction, though. Sam had brought her lunch every day that week and she’d noticed something: he enjoyed her approval. He would pretend like he wasn’t watching her when she took her first bites of his food, but exuded satisfaction after her first sigh. She’d done a little experiment on him earlier that day and showed no reaction to her meal. No happy dance, no sighs, no moans. Sam’s body language had become more tense with every passing minute. It took him three minutes to crack and ask her how she liked her focaccia sandwich. When she’d told him it was fantastic, he glowed.
She wasn’t proud to admit that she liked him salivating after her approval.
Sam’s confidence faltered for a second, but he quickly smoothed his face back over and continued. He opened the refrigerator.
“I made Daisy’s food for the next few days and separated them into the correct serving sizes. So in the morning and evening give her one of the bags. Easy enough. She will let you know if you forget to feed her.”
“She has her priorities straight.” Lacey boosted herself up on the counter, her body on autopilot.
Sam continued his inventory. “I made you a frittata for breakfast, so you can heat that up whenever. There’s some ginger chicken and rice soup. There’s also a ziti that just needs to bake. I wrote the instructions on foil, so take it out when you start preheating the oven.”
“Why did you write the instructions on the foil?”
“So you don’t lose the instructions,” Sam explained, like that should have been obvious. Lacey felt uncomfortably seen, because she probably would have misplaced the instructions if he’d put them somewhere logical, like the fridge or the counter. Apparently she hadn’t been the only person in this fake relationship paying attention.
“Did you write the instructions on Daisy too?”
“I tried, but she kept wiggling when I got near her with the sharpie.”
This time Lacey did laugh, and a small smile played at the corners of Sam’s mouth. She might have imagined it, but she swore his eyes swept down her body, then back up to meet her gaze. The small staring contest she did not imagine. They watched each other, like there was an unspoken question between them neither of them knew how to ask. The longer they kept their gazes locked, the harder it became for her to breathe correctly. Her skin tingled, like he was placing phantom kisses all over her. The body remembered. Lacey fought the urge to rock or wiggle, anything to provide a little friction to her neglected pussy. She was in charge, not her body.
Her body could be in charge later, after Sam had left the state.
Daisy’s nails clicked on the floor as she came into the kitchen and sat in front of Sam. She pawed his leg to get his attention, and it broke the thread of tension between them.
“See. She will let you know when she wants dinner.” Sam chuckled but there was no humor in it.
Daisy did a little happy dance when he fed her too.
Sam led Lacey down the hallway, past the half bath she’d used when she’d been here before.
“I finally get to see what’s in the west wing?”
“As long as you promise not to touch the rose,” Sam said, stopping at a closed door. “This is my room.”
“And I’m not allowed in there?” Lacey guessed. Sam’s cheeks grew pink.
“Actually, this is where you’ll be sleeping. I, um, don’t have a guest room set up.”
So her plan to let her body take charge later was going to happen in his room. In his bed. In his sheets. Her pussy throbbed in anticipation.
“I made my bed, and I didn’t want Daisy to mess it up,” Sam explained, opening the door.
His room was a dream. The ceiling was tall, and a window that took up the expanse of the far wall made it feel like she could step out into the trees. The room was bigger than her first apartment in New York, and she hadn’t even seen the bathroom yet.
“Aren’t you worried someone is going to fly a drone up here and see you walking around naked?” she asked.
“Well, you’re one of the few people that know where my house is,” he said, “and before you get any ideas about the drone, the window is tinted on the outside so no one can see inside.”
“So I can walk around naked?”
If she hadn’t been watching his reaction closely, Lacey might’ve missed the hard swallow.
“Mm-hmm.”
“Good luck getting me to move out.” She pointed to a doorway. “Is that the bathroom?”
“It’s actually the portal to my dungeon.”
“Demonic or sexual?”
“If you ask some people, the answer is both.” Then he winked at her, and Lacey’s legs threatened to give out.
Sam opened the door.
“Your demonic sex dungeon looks suspiciously like a bathroom,” Lacey said, stepping inside and looking around.
Yup. She could live in this bathroom and be really happy about it. The shower had enough nozzles to qualify as a car wash.
“You know what, you’re right. This is the bathroom. I get my houses mixed up sometimes.”
Lacey caught him looking at her ass in the mirror. Nice to know she wasn’t the only person attracted. Or she’d sat in something.
“Wait, do you actually have a dungeon in one of your houses— Wow, I cannot believe I just said that sentence.”
Sam was almost directly behind her, and she watched him in the mirror take those last few steps and lean in to whisper in her ear, “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
Lacey felt dizzy. Her mouth was dry and watering at the same time, because the body remembered , and her mouth remembered how he felt. So many parts of him. It wanted to know again, to make sure it hadn’t forgotten anything.
Sam’s phone chimed in his pocket.
“Goddammit,” he muttered, stepping away from Lacey and digging for it. She took several deep breaths, trying to restore oxygen to her brain and find her equilibrium again. She checked in with her body, and her panties were embarrassingly wet.
Saved by the bell.
“I need to leave to get to the airport,” he said, silencing his alarm. “Are you fine if you check out the rest of the house by yourself?”
“I won’t get lost, right?” Lacey asked.
“No, I don’t think so.” Sam left the bathroom, his pace quicker than it had been when they’d entered. “Just don’t go into my studio, don’t touch my instruments, and don’t answer the landline.”
Lacey nodded until he hit his last point. “You don’t want me to answer the phone? What if it’s you calling?”
“I won’t call the landline,” he said. “If I need to talk to you, I’ll call your cell phone.”
Lacey frowned. “But how are you going to do that?”
Sam walked into his walk-in closet. “Have you never used your phone up here?”
Lacey shook her head. “I didn’t see the point. You live in the middle of the woods.”
“Check your service,” he told her, taking a cozy gray sweater off a hanger. He slipped it on, breaking up his black-on-black ensemble.
Lacey did as she was told. Full bars. The best service she’d had in over six months.
“You have service!” she shouted, shocked and incredulous.
“I’m surprised you haven’t noticed,” he said, picking up a black suitcase.
“No one texts me,” Lacey admitted before she could stop herself. It was pathetic, but true.
“That can’t be right,” Sam said with a small frown and an adorable, concerned forehead wrinkle.
“I don’t really have any friends.” In for a pathetic penny, in for a pathetic pound. “Gavin and Leo aren’t big texters. And neither are you. So…that pretty much sums up my social circle.” Daisy wandered into Sam’s bedroom. “And Daisy, but she doesn’t have opposable thumbs.”
“But you’re….you really don’t have any friends?”
“Don’t you have a plane to catch?”
Sam snapped back into action. “Right. Plane. New York.”
Lacey followed him to the front door. “Have a nice trip. You’ll be home Saturday?”
“I should be,” Sam said, patting down his pockets. Satisfied with the results, he crouched down in front of Daisy, who licked his face. “You be good, okay? I’ll miss you.” He stood. “Thanks again. I’ll feel better knowing she’s with someone who loves her.”
“You’re going to miss your plane,” Lacey reminded him.
Sam nodded and left through the garage. Daisy followed him and sat in front of the closed door, watching it like Sam was going to come back in at any second. It broke Lacey’s heart.
“Daisy girl, do you want to play?”
Lacey woke a little before midnight to the buzzing of her phone. She’d fallen asleep on the couch in the basement watching a movie with Daisy.
Sam
I made it to my apartment in NYC. How’s my baby girl?
Lacey smiled drowsily at her phone. It was precious that he cared so much about a dog he’d known for less than a week. Everyone—including the media— that didn’t know him thought that Sam was standoffish and borderline rude. And he should be because that man would be a raw, exposed nerve if he cared for everyone the way he cared for those he was close to. He’d taken better care of her in a few weeks of fake dating than any of her real boyfriends ever had. None of them had ever made her lunch and brought it to her at work. Hell, most of them couldn’t even cook.
Lacey:
She’s good. Misses her daddy
The three dancing dots in Sam’s message bubble started and stopped several times.
Sam
And how’s Daisy?
Lacey didn’t know if he was being serious or messing with her. Maybe it was in her head, but she thought they’d been playing some version of chicken earlier, toeing the line between friendly and flirty. They’d said—well, she’d said—no non-public displays of affection. But, fuck, she wanted him.
Lacey
She’s good.
Sam
What have you been doing?
Lacey
A little play time.
Sam
What kind of play time?
Lacey
Wouldn’t you like to know ?
Again, his dots appeared and disappeared, like he was writing and deleting. Lacey was close enough to the fire to feel the flames.
Sam
Are you in my bed yet?
Lacey’s pulse kicked into a different galaxy. Carefully, she extracted herself from the couch where Daisy was snoring and tiptoed upstairs. As she reached the top, she heard Daisy running up behind her. Lacey sighed.
“Sweetie, I appreciate that you want to hang out with me, but I’m trying to sext your daddy. I need this.”
Daisy trotted past her, headed straight for the bedroom.
“I love you, but you’re ruining my non-existent sex life,” she shouted after her.
Lacey followed the dog down the hall, and wasn’t at all surprised to find her already in Sam’s bed, curled up on the left side of the bed. Did Sam sleep on the right side? The full body tingles started again as she imagined what he looked like spread across his sheets. Dark hair rumpled, the ink all over his body moving with his skin every time he shifted. Did he sleep naked? He did in her imagination. It would be so easy to reach over and stroke him.
“Fuck,” she muttered, tossing her phone on the bed and stripping off her shirt and her bra. This was torture. And she didn’t want to be the only one suffering.
Lacey found a white V-neck T-shirt in Sam’s closet. She found a lot of them, actually, but she took the first one her hand touched and pulled it on over her head. The fabric was cool against her overheated skin, and her nipples got harder.
The shirt wasn’t particularly big on her. One of the bigger downsides to being tall was that she would never look adorably tiny in men’s clothes. It was a little baggy because of how men’s clothes were cut, but the hem only went an inch past the waistband of her panties once she’d taken off her pants.
She examined her appearance in the big mirror in the closet. Was it cute? Sexy? Lacey turned this way and that. Her ass was great, but her tits weren’t exactly showstoppers. A boyfriend had once suggested she get implants.
Fuck it.
Lacey marched through Sam’s room, scooped her phone off his bed, and went into his bathroom. The lighting was great. There was no way she normally looked this good. She rose up onto the balls of her feet so the curve of her ass would be visible over the counter, casually rested one arm on top of her head so the shirt rode up and exposed her hip, and took a mirror selfie.
Lacey
Not yet. I needed to borrow one of your shirts.
She sent the message, and then sent the picture. The wait for feedback was agonizing. Snakes mixed with the butterflies in her stomach until Sam’s three little dots appeared. Then disappeared. Then appeared again.
Sam
Is that what you’re wearing to sleep in my bed?
Lacey
Yes
Unless you have a problem with it
You could wear less
If you want
I’ve got great sheets
What am I supposed to take off ?
She lifted the hem of his shirt up until her hand brushed the bottom of her boob, then she snapped a picture and sent it with the caption:
Lacey
This?
Quickly, she hooked her thumb into the waistband of her panties and tugged them down until they became dangerously close to exposing her and took another picture.
Lacey
Or this?
She paced while his dots did their appearing and disappearing act, her hands trembling. The last time she’d had this much adrenaline pumping through her body she’d just stepped off an amusement park drop tower.
Lacey almost dropped her phone when the screen changed from their text messages to the incoming call screen, and a second later, to Sam’s face.
Sam was calling. Sam was video calling.
Her trembling thumb hit the accept button.
Sam was lying in bed, the light from his phone illuminating his face.
“Both is an option.” His voice was deeper than normal, rumbly and a bit slower. Sleep heavy.
Lacey leaned against the bathroom counter, angling the camera so he could barely see her ass in the mirror. “You sound tired.”
Sam smiled softly. “I am, but then you started sending me sexy pics, and now I’m not going to be able to sleep until I take care of the problem you caused.”
“Mmm…what kind of problem did I cause? Is it a big problem?”
“You know exactly what kind of problem you caused.”
God, she did. It was an excellent problem. And judging by the way Sam’s bicep flexed in time with the beat of her heart, he was not ignoring the problem.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” she asked innocently, tracing the neckline of his shirt with the tip of her fingernail.
Sam moaned. “I thought you didn’t want to do non-public displays of affection.”
It was true. She’d said that. But lust had tangled her wants and needs into a knot that couldn’t be untied, and the logical part of her brain had given up trying to keep her safe.
“I don’t think it counts if we’re not touching each other,” she reasoned, sliding her free hand into the front of her panties. Her middle finger brushed her clit, and she shivered.
“It’s your loophole,” he told her, his breath catching.
“What are you doing with that hand?” Lacey asked.
“Wouldn’t you like to know.”
“I would, actually,” she said, her own breath catching as she brought some of her own wetness up to lubricate her clit so she could play with it. “Let me see it, Daddy.”
She saw any resolve Sam had evaporated like water in a desert.
“Hold on,” he said, rolling onto his side. A low, warm light replaced the harsh blue of his phone screen. Sam resettled, and then the direction of his camera changed.
Lacey’s mouth watered. Sam’s cock was gorgeous. He wrapped his hand around the shaft and stroked it slowly, teasing both of them. A glistening drop of precum oozed from the head and Lacey licked her lips. She wanted it.
Sam groaned. “Fuck. You can’t do that or I’m going to bust.”
She’d forgotten her own camera was pointed at her face. Her cheeks were flushed, and her pupils had dilated.
“It just looks so good,” she whined, changing her stance to give her a better angle to stroke her pussy.
“Oh yeah?” Sam’s strokes got faster. “What’s your hand doing? And don’t deny it because I can see your arm.”
And she’d forgotten about the mirror behind her.
“I think you know what I’m doing,” she said.
“Show me.”
She slowly took her hand out of her panties, wiggling her fingers in a mock hello in the mirror, and then brought her middle and index finger in front of her face. They were obviously wet. Lacey opened her mouth, stuck them inside, and sucked. The salt from her finger mixed with her own sweet, musky taste, and she moaned.
Sam did too.
“You like how you taste?” he asked breathlessly, his fist rapidly pumping his shaft.
“Mm-hmm,” Lacey hummed. “Come on, Daddy. You’re doing such a good job. Come for me.”
Sam groaned, the movement of his hand supersonic. Then his abs contracted and several spurts of cum shot onto his stomach. His hand slowed and his grip loosened until he was idly stroking himself again. Then the camera flipped, and his face filled her screen.
“Fuck,” he panted. “What am I going to do with you?”
“I don’t know,” Lacey said with a smug grin, “but you’re going to clean yourself up and go to bed. And I’m going to get my vibrator, go somewhere Daisy can’t follow me, and come until I can’t walk right thinking about what you just did.”
“You brought your vibrator to my house?”
“The walls are very thin at home. I’m pent-up, Sam.”
He grinned devilishly. “You’re going to have to stay pent-up a few more days. You’re not allowed to come until I get home and can watch. ”
“What?”
“I want to watch you like you watched me. Fair is fair.”
“Why do I have to wait until you get home? We have phones.”
“Because I want to be there. I want to see everything, hear everything, smell everything. I want to watch you make yourself come in my bed, on my sheets, in my shirt.”
“But—”
“You said it didn’t count if we weren’t touching each other.”
She had said that. Horny Lacey should not be given the keys and allowed to steer the car. And Horny Lacey must have still been in control because she said, “Okay. But no touching. Because touching leads to fucking.”
Sam chuckled. “Whatever you say. Goodnight, Lacey.”
“Goodnight, Sam.”
Sam hung up, and Lacey’s screen returned to their texts. That had gotten wildly out of hand with no effort at all. Zero to one hundred and sixty in a few messages.
And she was going to let him watch her masturbate soon.
Anticipation sizzled in her belly. She could take the edge off, ignore his instructions, and do what she’d been planning to do all along…but she wouldn’t. Lacey liked this little game.